The Battle of Coral
by StoriesByKannon
Summary: The planet CO-241, designated Coral, is home to many things, among them, an invading Covenant Fleet. Follow four completely different members of the UNSC Beijing, as they fight on dirt, ruin, sea, and space, to keep the planet from falling. R&R. Ch. 3 up!
1. Chapter 1: Caution Hitchikers & Strays

**Authors Note; **Welcome everyone, to my newest attempt at a fic. This story centralizes around a Spartan who you should know, an Admiral of a Carrier at Reach, as well as an ONI spook, and a more-than-battle-ready ODST. Hopefully this fic turns out good, and I hope everyone who reads enjoys. Please R&R. :)

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><p><strong>0650 Hours. August 30th, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)<strong>

**UNSC Carrier_ Beijing_, In Orbit Over Reach, Epsilon Eridani System.**

"Lieutenant, Status report!"

Vice Admiral Joseph Freeman shouted over to his second-in-command, Commander Richard Jones. Usually, most would've appointed the _Beijing_'s engineering officer, Captain Charlie Walters, but Freeman saw more potential and effort from the Commander.

"Sir! We've taken heavy plasma damage on deck three, Section D through H! Point-Defense-Cannons 6 and 7 are offline! We've also got a VIP package, just picked up via Cargo Bay 7-A, transferring data to your TacPad."

"Shit," Freeman muttered under his breath. "What's the status of our MAC gun?"

"Charging, sir! MAC at seventy-eight percent!"

"As soon as it's ready, fire at will Commander. Co-ordinate fire with Lieutenant Harrison."

"Will do, sir!"

Turning to the main views screen, Freeman observed the situation they were currently caught in. The Covenant fleet had amassed and rushed Reach, forces were crawling all over the planet. The massive Covenant fleet, amassing over three-hundred vessels, smashed through the UNSC opposition, taking out seven of the twenty Super-MAC platforms already. According to reports that had leaked in over FLEETCOM, dozens of the ground-side generators for the MAC guns were already going down, leaving only several still active.

Glancing down at the TacPad, Freeman gasped at the "package" they'd obtained. Last he'd heard, all assets of that type were deployed on the surface, or elsewhere, such as Earth and the other inner colonies. He'd personally seen one in action, and was admittedly anxious to personally see one up close.

"Ensign Green, have the VIP Package brought to the bridge for briefing ASAP. I want it done by you personally."

"Sir, yes, sir," the ensign called over, as he rushed off of the bridge and towards the cargo bays.

Turning back to the screens, Freeman once again focused on the battle at hand. The UNSC fleets were putting up a hell of a fight. Just in his own battle-group, November-One, they'd amassed sixteen confirmed Covenant ships KIA. Regrettably, however, there were only two ships remaining, the _Beijing_, and the Frigate, _Blaze of Glory_. The other five ships in the battle-group, another Frigate, three Destroyers, and their Prowler attache, were all destroyed by the vicious Covenant attackers.

A resounding boom echoed throughout the ship as a distinct rumble occurred. Staring out the main window, Freeman watched from his command chair as the single MAC gun fired a round at a Covenant CCS-Battlecruiser. Along with a MAC round from the _Blaze of Glory_, the rounds punched through the mighty ships shields, and plasma explosions ripples across the metallic purple surface.

"Sir! Confirmed KIA on that Covenant Ship!"

"Good work, Commander. Send our regards to the _Blaze of Glory_for the assist."

"On it, sir!"

Looking out over the battlefield, Freeman shook his head slowly at the graveyard slowly amassing. Over a hundred-and-fifty ships from both sides lay waste in the center of the battlefield and strewn across either side. And more and more of those were piling to be UNSC ships. A small beep came from the Admiral's TacPad; a message from Admiral Freemont.

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><p>File/Incoming/

United Nations Space Command Emergency Priority Order 105003A-3

Encryption Code: White

Public Key: file/ Fleet wide/

From: UNSC/NAVCOM Admiral Roland Freemont

To: ALL UNSC PERSONNEL IN EPSILON ERIDANI

Subject: Emergency Order 105003A-3 ("Fall of Reach")

Classification: OPEN ORDER (FLEETCOM Section One Directive)

Content:

All Vessels in the UNSC Fleet at Reach and in the Epsilon Eridani Fleet; FLEETCOM is ordering a full retreat. The Covenant have overrun all forward positions, and our fleets strength is below one-third strength. Reach has fallen. Enact Cole Protocol, and jump using randomized vectors away from Earth.

I send my best wishes with all of you. I'm currently still in FLEETCOM's Olympus Tower in New Alexandria. I will be seeing Reach till its bitter end. Protect Earth and her colonies. As I stand here beside Rear Admiral Marshall Parker, we congratulate all of you brave soldiers, as well as the fallen.

/End Transmission/File deleted as per order 085243D-1/

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><p>Admiral Freeman dropped his head solemnly. Admiral Freemont and he had personally led a battle-group together at Harvest, and again at Jericho VII. The man was a brave one, and he honored and knew he'd remember him. Looking around the bridge, he saw the solemn looks across his crews faces, and couldn't blame them. Especially Commander Jones, born and raised on Reach.<p>

"Ensign Gou, randomize vectors and prepare to jump to Slipspace. We're leaving this fight."

"Affirmative, sir," Gou replied, a distinct tone of regret in her voice.

As the pinpricks of space turned to nothing in front of him, Freeman couldn't help but feel remorse and regret for leaving the battle. As much as he'd like to, the order came down from FLEETCOM, and he couldn't disobey it. Especially with the precious cargo his ship had picked up. As the Slipspace jump was completed, and they drifted in the empty space, a heavy metal footfall was heard entering the bridge, accompanied by quick footsteps.

"Sir!" he heard snapped from Ensign Green, surprise in the man's voice. "Our VIP package, is-"

"I'm aware of our guest, Ensign. Return to your post. Thank you for your assistance."

"Sir, of course, sir."

Facing the space outside, yet to turn to the new arrival. Turning slightly to see the A.I console, he watched as a male, clad in Native American tribal wear, complete with a feather headdress, appeared in a glowing light above the cylindrical console.

"Fenix, bring me up all the information we have on our friend here."

"Already done, Admiral," the A.I curtly replied, data streaming across his figure.

Turning around fully, Admiral Freeman fully observed the guest they'd picked up. Usually, stragglers were very uncommon, especially one floating through open space in the midst of a large battle. Although, Freeman had to admit, he wasn't the least bit surprised, after getting the reports about the _Circumference _and it's rouge NAV database.

"Sir," the figure spoke up from behind the polarized visor. "I'm James-005, at your service."


	2. Chapter 2: Blue Plasma and Blue Seas

**Authors Note; **Thanks to everyone that's started reading, I know the first two chapters probably weren't as amazing as they could've been. The next chapter after this, we'll finally have some Covenant action, as well as a little Space combat. This chapter was more of a "setting stage" so that we could get troops on the ground, the Carrier in the sky, and the Covenant in the system. Well, R&R and hope you enjoy!

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><p><strong>1400 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Carrier **_**Beijing**_**, In orbit above Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

The deep blue oceans of Coral were easily visible out of the forward windows as Admiral Freeman admired the small planet. Smaller than Earth, but larger than Mars, the planet wasn't even in need of terraforming when the UNSC discovered it in 2342. Over eighty percent of the planets surface was water, and what was left was all compiled onto a single continent. The small continent, only about three times the size of Earth's China, composed of a mountainous range, as well as lush green valleys leading to the sandy beaches and oceans.

"Sir, docking with Echo Station." Commander Jones called over from his console.

"Thank you for the update, Commander," he called back over.

After they'd escaped Reach, the crew of the _Beijing_ had been refit, but remained the same, the only new additions being additional Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. Curiously enough, the Carrier's precious cargo of a Spartan-II solider, James-005, should've been deposited with HIGHCOM back on Earth. Instead, they were instructed to join Coral's Defense Fleet, and to keep the Spartan on board. However, they did pick up a new ONI attache, who was present on the bridge, hovering in the corner.

Captain Jerome Williams, the ONI Section Three commander, was assigned to the bridge to "observe tactics" utilized by the Admiral. While Freeman knew it was obviously connected to the Spartan that remained on board, he couldn't upright say anything; ONI held more leverage than the entire UNSC when it came to just about anything.

"Admiral! Incoming transmission from Thebes Remote Sensor Outpost! Multiple contacts, coming out of Slipspace near the systems edge!"

Admiral Freeman shook his head, clearing his thoughts on the spook and focusing. "Isolate and scan those targets. Are the targets confirmed Covenant?"

"Sir! Thebes Outpost confirms four Destroyers, three Covenant CCS-Battlecruisers, an Assault Carrier, and a dozen Corvettes! We're gonna have a hell of a fight, Admiral! Also have a Carrier! Jesus, it's behind our lines! Just dropped troops and pulled back into Slipspace, what the..."

As the Commander trailed off, Freeman hung his head low, before that determined look he always got sparked in his eyes. Staring out the bridge, he recognized pinpricks of light in the distance; the incoming Slipspace ruptures. Knowing the sure to be soon outcome, he would put up the best damn fight he could. As these thoughts flew through his mind, the "spook" stepped over to him.

"Admiral. The Covenant are here for a reason. Forerunner structures are on Coral, and they need to be withheld from the Covenant at all cost. Deploy your Marines, ODSTs, and Spartan-005 ground-side."

Freeman glared at the ONI spook for just releasing this information, and trying to order him around on his own ship. Admittedly, though, there wasn't much he could do. The ONI officer, regardless, "outranked" him and had more command authority. Freeman had no choice but to comply.

"Alert the crew, Commander! All members, to battle stations! Have all ODST troops ready for drop, and have those Pelicans ready for dust off! I want Marines prepped and ready in ten! Get Longsword Squadrons Delta-Knife-One and Two into the dark, ASAP, have Delta-Knife-Three arm up with one of our Shivas if things get too heavy."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Harrison, what's the status on our MAC gun?"

"Sir!" the officer called over from his station, "MAC gun is at thirty-six percent and charging fast!" Should be ready within sixty seconds!"

"As soon as its charged, you've got control of it, Harrison."

"Of course, sir!"

Turning towards the main panel, the ship's A.I came into view, illuminating above the panel. Nodding his head, feather headdress ruffling, Fenix turned to the Admiral. Freeman looked over the A.I, barely cracking a smile. Having worked with Fenix for six and a half years, the Fourth-Generation A.I was fast-approaching the end of his effective lifespan. For lack of a better word, Freeman and Fenix had become, friends.

"Fenix, get this boat moving in twenty. Once we drop our cargo, we're going into the fight."

"Of course, sir."

Smiling at the A.I, Freeman merely nodded in reply, before taking his seat at the command post.

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><p><strong>1420 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Carrier **_**Beijing**_**, In orbit above Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

Jacob Rawlings grumbled as the loud, alarm klaxons began blaring. "All troops! Battle ready and prepped for drop in ten!" Shaking the last few seconds of sleep away, Rawlings stood at his full six-foot-three-inches, grabbing the standard Orbital Drop Shock Trooper helmet that was tossed carelessly on the ground. Turning to his right, he saw Corporal Mitch Stevens getting armored up.

Stepping out of the makeshift bunk room the ODSTs had on the Carrier, Rawlings quickened his pace to a slight jog, as he rounded the corners to the Armory, which led straight to the SOIEV pods the Shock Troopers used for surface deployments. Slowing his pace slightly, Rawlings took a second to grab a standard S2-AM Sniper Rifle off of the first rack, as well as a BR55-Battle Rifle off the third. Nodding to the Acting Commander of the ODST Batallion, Major Harris, Rawlings spotted the first open pod, and immediately took his place next to it.

Carefully positioning his Sniper Rifle along the left side of the cushioned interior, he tried to cram the BR55 alongside it, before giving up and removing the SMG attached to the other half. Dropping the light, automatic weapon on the ground, he clipped the Battle Rifle in, before backing into the pod and hitting the close button. The pod's main door swung down and he heard a satisfying _click_ as the gears locked. The display to his left flickered on as he opened the TEAMCOM channel.

"Alright, boys. Looks like the big, bad Covies wanna take Coral. According to what I've heard through the grapevine, we've got some Forerunner structure on the planet, which no doubt the bastards want. Well, guess who's not letting them get their dirty fuckin' hands on it?"

"The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, Sir! Fifty-Third Battalion, Sir!"

"Damn right, boys. Now, while the Marines fly their happy asses down, and our resident freak takes his ride down, we're goin' in how?"

"Feet first, into hell, sir!"

"Exactly. Now, drop is in three minutes, so all of you, hustle your asses to your respective drop pods. I don't give a rats ass which one, but you better be armed and ready! Because we're gonna set up shop and hold that bitch down!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

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><p><strong>1420 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**UNSC Carrier **_**Beijing**_**, In orbit above Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

Captain Williams stepped briskly off the bridge as the Admiral started launching orders. The firing solutions and such towards the incoming Covenant task-force wasn't of immediate concern; getting down to the surface was. Opening up a secure COM link, he quickly located the Admiral.

"Admiral, I have important business with your soldiers on the surface. I'll be riding down the first Marine Pelican drop-ship. I need you and the defense fleet here to hold position, and make our job as easy as possible. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, _sir_," replied the Admiral, bitterness evident in his voice.

Williams couldn't blame him; before he joined Section Three, an entire ship of his was blown nearly to bits protecting an ONI spook during a routine op on a sensor outpost. In the end, however, Williams was shown the importance of things like this, and why a ship, or even a fleet full of men, was worth defending a small object, or a structure.

Quickly reaching the nearest flight bay, Williams watched as twenty or so Marines loaded up onto each Pelican Dropship. Seeing an open seat in the cockpit of the second one, he quickly trotted over, through the row of confused marines. The pilot, a blonde male, turned to him from behind his pilot's gear.

"Ah, you're the resident spook. Well, pleasure to meet ya', welcome to Kilo-Two-Two-Six. We'll be your ride down."

"Just cut the chatter and close the hatch," Williams quickly said to the pilot.

Looking at his FoF tags on his neural implants Heads-up-Display, he brought the man up as Paul Smith. Good flight records, save for a crash with a Shortsword bomber during the Harvest Campaign. Nevertheless, Williams was at least semi-satisfied with his ride down to the surface. As he heard the afterburners launch, Williams pulled on his Recon variant helmet from under his arm, and activated his mission recorder.

"Control, this is Pelican Kilo-Two-Two-Six, we are prepped for take off!" the pilot called over the radio. "Permission to fly and fry some Covies when we hit dirt?"

"Permission granted, Harris. Good hunting."


	3. Chapter 3: Hard Drop

**Author's Note;** Well, here goes Chapter Three. For this chapter, and probably the next two or three, we'll be following ODST Sergeant Jacob Rawlings, a man who'd previously fought on Reach. More backstory on him will be given later, but for now, here's what's going down on Coral. The first taste of Covenant action is here as well, and it gets pretty interesting. Hopefully my readers enjoy what came of this chapter, which was originally partially inspired by a story from a friend in Afghanistan. Read and Review! Thanks!

**-Kannon. **

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><p><strong>1500 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**Grid Location Gamma-6. "The Great Rocky Valley". Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

**ODST 53****rd**** Battalion, 3****rd**** Company. Fire Team Echo. Sergeant Jacob Rawlings. **

Coughing, Rawlings shook his head violently, trying to shake off the initial distortion of the drop. Having pulled his drag-chute a few dozen meters past the recommended point, and firing his thrusters a bit later than that, Rawlings had taken quite the _slam_ when his SOIEV finally hit the dirt. His vision still blurred the slightest bit, and the disorientation remaining in the faintest way, Rawlings managed to press the buttons for the explosive release locks on the SOIEV. As the red lights blinked to green, tiny plumes of smoke puffed inside the pod as the door blew off and the light flashed into the pod.

Stumbling out of the pod, Rawlings observed the TacMap inside his ODST Ballistic Armor's Helmet, and activated his VISR Heads-Up-Display. His company's XO, Second Lieutenant Maries, was a half-klick from his location. Over two thirds of his company were already approaching Maries, having not had to deal with the rough landing he did, and Rawlings clicked his COM channels on and accessed Third Company's personal channel.

"Echo Leader, checking in. How're we doing Third Company?" he called into the channel.

As soon as he spoke, a dozen voices answered at once in a mess of static wash. Lt. Maries quickly cut the chatter with a bark, replying, "We're in the clear, for now Sergeant. High tail your ass over here to the rendezvous point, your teams waitin'. Double time!"

"Yes, Sir!" Rawlings quickly replied, highlighting the green square on his TacMap.

Breaking into a light jog, Rawlings boots clambered across the rocky ground, one of the few places on Coral where it was in abundance. The "Great Rocky Valley", as it was coined, was the largest of three stretches of rocks, dirt, and small cliffsides on Coral. Rawlings wasn't complaining though, it beat being stuck in the jungles like he'd been on Jericho VII. COM channels had remained at a decent level, occasional barked orders between squads, until the voice of someone designated as Phoenix-Two broke in.

"Fifty-Third Battalion! This is Phoenix-Two of Second Company! I'm under heavy fire from-_ahhh!_ Covenant forces have me pinned down! I could use a little help!"

The COMs became a quick mess again, all of the Battalion calling over the COMs, predominately Fire Team Phoenix, who from the sounds of it, were mobilizing towards their trapped teammate. While Maj. Harris ordered them to wait for backup, it was evident that the fire-team was moving towards their teammate, as the mans screams grew louder. A woman's voice broke in seconds later, a Charlie-Leader, reporting her and Fire Team Charlie had encountered a Grunt group of twelve, but that they'd been dealt with.

As Rawlings neared the rendezvous point, he was confused to the lack of troops. Only the two members of his team, Fire Team Echo, were there, as well as Lt. Maries, Fire Teams Alpha and Gamma, and a Navy Pilot. Tempted to scratch his head, but unable to due to the helmet present, Rawlings quickly took note of the crashed Pelican dropship against the cliff wall near the group, as well as the scattered supply crates. A half dozen Marine bodies laid piled in the corner; casualties of the crash. Among the cargo, an apparently unscathed M12 Warthog sat, with a Marine who his HUD identified as Private J. Bravo, sitting in the passenger seat, MA5B propped against the front frame.

"Sir!" he called out as he approached the group, "Orders?"

Lt. Maries nodded at him as Fire Teams Alpha and Gamma mobilized as a single unit, taking off towards the forests to the west of their position.

"Rawlings. I need you and Echo here for a small op. I just assigned Alpha and Gamma to recon, apparently Covie bastards set up shop near here, small base and everything. You, however, are going to be taking this baby right here," he said, gesturing to the 'Hog.

"You, Wheeler, and Davis here, are all going to recon elsewhere. Apparently, there's some kinda structure beneath this dirt and rock we've got here, and we need it checked out. About six klicks North of here, there's an entrance to some of the lower structures. We don't know if the Covenant are there yet, and you guys are gonna be our point squad. You'll take the Warthog, check it out, and move in, while the rest of Third Company clears out the area. We'll be rendezvousing with you in oh-four-hundred hours. If you run into too much trouble, give us a holler. Got it?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Turning to his squad-mates, Fire Team Echo, he nodded quickly in his helmet to Lance Corporals Brandon Wheeler and Cameron Davis. The two returned the gesture as they approached the 'Hog. The sleeping marine, Pvt. Bravo, was shaken awake as Davis grabbed his collar and hoisted him up. The young Marine quickly saluted, before scuttling towards the crashed Pelican. Rawlings slipped into the driver's seat, and revved the engine of the M12, as Wheeler mounted the M41 "Vulcan" Light Anti-Aircraft Gun. Pressing the pedal down, the Warthog pulled to life, kicking up some dirt as it pulled away from the small area. Approaching the treeline, Rawlings opened the private channel between him and his team.

"How was the drop, boys?" he laughed, as the 'Hog bumped, going over a tree root.

"Ehh, nothing to interesting," Wheeler replied as he swiveled around on the M41. "The usual."

Davis said similar, with a quick, "Boring and rough," before nodding.

"Sir," Wheeler spoke up, "Got any clue what the structure is we're supposed to be seeing? Some kind of alien structure according to the guys from Delta."

"Nope, Maries didn't give us shit for intel. All I know is that if the Covenant are there, we're gonna have to ki-"

Rawlings was cut off as the whine of a Banshee flier screamed overhead. To be more accurate, a half-dozen Banshee fliers. The purple craft, angular with wings, flew mere meters over the treetops, releasing streams of plasma fire across the rough path the Warthog was on. A few stray bolts of plasma nailed the front of the Warthog, but not doing much damage, as the rest merely slapped up dirt.

"Wheeler! Fire the Vulcan!" Rawlings called over the screams, as the Banshees turned to make another pass.

The loud rattling of the chain-gun, as it spit out five-hundred-bullets per minute, helped to drown out the whine, as Wheeler rotated the large gun to face fliers coming at them from the rear. Davis popped up in his seat, BR55 Battle Rifle at the ready, squeezing off careful three-round bursts at the crafts as well. In the rear-view mirror, Rawlings watched one explode as the Warthog bounced through the dirt and grass, and he heard at least one more do the same. Another slammed into the trail behind them, having lost a wing, kicking up dirt before exploding in a shower of blue plasma and sparks.

"How're we doin' back there, Wheeler?" he called over all the noise.

"Not good, Sarge! Three left, and they're comin' for another pass! I think they're readying the Fuel Rods! Good news is we're three-hundred meters from our objective! I'll do what I can!"

Davis slapped a fresh clip in his BR55, and Rawlings slammed on the pedal even harder. The Warthog, running as fast as it would go, was bouncing through the trees along the rugged dirt path, bumping as it hit tree roots and other debris. Rawlings silently prayed to himself as he heard the remaining three Banshees opened up fire. Two of them used the standard plasma cannons, which strewed shots along the sides of the vehicle. Looking straight ahead, there was a mere twenty meters till the end of the forest, and a gray looming structure was visible a hundred meters beyond that. Rawlings leaned towards the middle of the 'Hog as a shot shattered the left mirror, just before hearing the Fuel Rod Cannon go off.

Time seemed to slow as Rawlings both heard and felt the impact of the Fuel Rod cannon. It hadn't directly hit the vehicle, or else they surely would've died, but it'd exploded right next to the right side. The vehicle was tossed airbourne, completely flipping over and he was flung from the vehicle. Disoriented, Rawlings heard a sickening smash as he slammed into a tree, heard another body fall near him, along with the hulking chassis of the Warthog, which he could hear roll into another tree.

Shaking his head, his vision white and fuzzy, he felt around, pulling himself to his feet, and grabbing the M7S attached to his right thigh. His Sniper Rifle lay a few feet away on the ground, snapped in half from the impact of hitting the ground underneath the Warthog. Observing the vehicle, while dashing towards it to use as cover, he noticed it was completely destroyed, the engine gone, and the right half of the vehicle blown to bits. Underneath it already was Davis, coughing and holding his left arm at an awkward angle.

"You alright?" he asked Davis as he slid under the vehicle, hearing the Banshees trail off into the distance. They wouldn't have much time, the Banshees were sure to report their position to other Covenant forces in the area.

"Yeah, just a little banged up Sarge'," he said, waving him off. His arm didn't look quite broken, but it was still pretty shooken up, and probably sprained. Taking note of this, Rawlings realized he hadn't seen Wheeler yet.

"Where's-" he began, Davis cutting him off with a quick point to their left.

There laid Wheeler, his helmet next to him, cracked and shattered. Blood pooled on the grass next to Wheeler, and three plasma burns of decent size permeated his chest plate. The helmet had a burn on it as well, but the real issue was Wheelers legs. His left leg was completely gone from the knee down, burned off by the Fuel Rod blast, and his right leg was at an awkward angle. Grabbing the somehow still intact MedKit off the ground, Rawlings dove over to his unconscious figure. Davis chinned him COM, calling over TeamCom.

"This is Echo-Two of Fire Team Echo, Third Company! We could use a little help! We've got one seriously wounded and our 'Hog is toast! Banshee patrol nailed us in the woods in Grid Gamma-Six, Cross Location Sigma-Two! Requesting assistance, over!"

The voice of Major Harris broke in over the COM rushes, and became clearer. "Echo-Two, this is Fifty-Third Actual, I read you loud and clear. Deploying a team of seven Marines we picked up, they're about five minutes out. They've got a M831 Troop-Transport Warthog with them. They'll pick up your one wounded, and remove him, while six of them move along with you towards your original objectives."

Before allowing them to reply, Harris cut in again. "I want to warn you, Echo, your objective is hot. I repeat, Covenant forces are present at the structure. A few detachments of Marines, along with everything remaining from Second Company is currently there, trying to clear them out. First Company and myself are currently moving into a small town about thirty-five clicks west of your position, called Opian. Contact me when you've accomplished your objective, over."

"Read you loud and clear, Fifty-Third Actual, Echo-Two out." Davis replied.

During the short conversation, Rawlings had wrapped a thick padding of gauze around the bleeding wounds, in an attempt to slow the bleeding, as well as injected biofoam into the wound. Hopefully, Wheeler would hold. He hadn't survived Reach just to die in a forest on Coral.

Standing, Rawlings picked up the MA5C Assault Rifle that Wheeler had carried, placing it on his back, and replacing the M7S on his thigh. Davis walked over to him, observing Wheeler, before the two men carefully moved the limp form under cover of the ruined vehicle. As the Troop-Transport neared, the driver honked twice, before skidding to a half about five meters away. Six Marines jogged over, and began lifting the limp form once more, placing it carefully in the back of the transport. A Field-Doctor, going by the name of Richards, instantly began busting out more complicated medical tools, before hollering to the driver to hurry up. The driver of the 'Hog nodded once to the ODSTs before reversing and pulling away as quickly as it came. Observing the new small squad he was left with, Rawlings noticed he was still the highest-rank, and therefore, in command.

"Alright, boys. You know the job. Lets get moving."

Breaking off at a light jog, the group of eight quickly moved out of the tree lines, and gunfire, along with plasma fire and small explosions, began to be heard in the distance. The ground picked up the pace, as Rawlings designated the new members of the group as Echo-Four through Echo-Ten. Bringing up small briefings on each, Rawlings quickly worked out a strategy.

"Alright. Echo-Four and Five, you two take point. Echo-Six, you hang towards the back, watch for vehicles," he said, nodding to the Marine hefting a M41 Rocket Launcher. "Echo Seven, you're our Sniper overwatch, Eight, you're his spotter. Take a spot on the ridge overlooking the structure and cover us. Nine and Ten, you two have the rear."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the Marines chanted in unison.

"Echo-Three," he said, turning to Davis, "I need you with me. We're following in these two," gesturing to the two men taking point, "and we're gonna push into the structure. Everyone else; once the Covenant in the area are clear, we're to push _into_ the structure and hold it out from the inside."

Everyone seemed to agree to this as they moved into formation while they jogged. Nearing the site of the structure, Rawlings found it to be a slightly favorable situation. The structure was built into a cliff wall, at the bottom of a slope he was now at the top of. Down in the crest of the valley, Marines, and a few ODSTs traded fire with a decent sized contingent of Covenant inside and surrounding the structure. Three Ghosts zipped back and forth, firing plasma, as a M12G1 Gauss 'Hog blasted one to pieces. Three wrecked Warthogs were littered in the area, a group of ODSTs taking cover behind one, while a destroyed Phantom provided cover for a dozen Covenant troops.

"Lets do this, move!" Rawlings called to his squad, bringing the MA5C to bear. Firing below at a few exposed Grunts, Rawlings quickly mowed them down, watching his ammo counter drop from thirty-two to fourteen. Using the last fourteen bullets firing at an unshielded Jackal, Rawlings quickly downed the alien as the rest of his squad took out others. A rocket _whooshed_ past him, as the Marine fired on, and destroyed in a shower of fireworks, one of the remaining Ghosts.

As Rawlings reached the two dozen soliders at the bottom of the hill, he quickly pulled a Marine aside behind a small rock formation. "Who's in charge here?" The Marine, looking at him, merely said, "You are now, Sarge," before turning back to the battlefield. Next to him, Rawlings noticed, was a body bearing the insignia of a Second Lieutenant, riddled with plasma burns, as well as a bloody Marine uniform.

Looking up over the top of the rocks, Rawlings was forced to duck again as plasma splashed over the rocks, chipping bits off. He rolled to the side, under the cover of the newly ruined Gauss 'Hog, next to Davis. Standing again, he let loose two-thirds of a clip at a mixed group of Jackals and Grunts that began to charge, one of them dropping to a sniper rifle shot from overhead. Just before he ducked back under cover, Rawlings watched as one of the more skilled warriors of the battlefield emerged from the structure, a Covenant Elite, clad in maroon Major armor.

Firing the two Needlers it was dual-weilding, the pink crystalline shards impacted a trio of Marines that were in the open, before they detonated, blowing the three bodies to bits. The Elite roared, its four vicious mandibles parting in what Rawlings took to be a smile, as it charged another group. Four Marines behind another 'Hog, who fired their MA5Bs and Battle Rifles at the beast, were quickly mowed down by the fury of Needles, with one being personally clubbed to death quickly by the beast.

A sharp report _crack_ed through the air as a sniper round nailed the Elite in the shoulder. It's shields simmered and died, and between the fire of half the remaining troops, the beast quickly dropped. The Needlers fell from its hands as it screamed a final cry, and the troops turned their fire back to the Grunts, Jackals, and Minor Elite, which was wielding a Covenant Carbine. The blue armored Elite turned, as fire rained down, shimmering its shields, and retreated into the structure, returning half a second later with a Needler Rifle. The more accurate rifle fired a shot high on the cliff, and Rawlings watched painfully as the body of the spotter he'd assigned fell sickeningly to the rocks below.

Rawlings trained his Assault Rifle on the Elite, as he slapped in a fresh clip, before rolling out of cover, firing in the direction of the Elite. Plasma fire from the Grunts and a Jackal splashed next to him, as the bullets riddled the damaged Phantom, the Elite retreating behind it. As Rawlings rolled back, however, he realized a grave error on his part.

As the Elite came out of cover again, Rawlings noticed it lacked any weapons. Now, however, in the full light, Rawlings noticed the Elite's armor wasn't the Minor's blue; it was a darker-navy, almost black. Special Operations Elite. Before he could turn to warn the troops, he watched as the Elite laughed in its horrendous alien tongue, mandibles splayed in four directions as it roared. Reaching for its hips as bullets pinged uselessly off it's upgraded shields, the Elite withdrew two small objects, which it activated. Two, pure blue blades of lightning and plasma activated, and the Elite crossed them in front of him.

Then, it charged.


	4. Chapter 4: Setting the Stage

**Author's Note;** Hello everyone! I apologize in advance if this chapter seems "rushed" at all, considering I incorporated two decent-sized fights in less words than the last. But, don't worry, things significantly pick up after this. We finally get to see our Spartan get moving and up, even if he doesn't get any hands-on work quite yet. Leaves you off at a slight cliffhangar as well, but I won't spoil EVERYTHING. ;)

As always, please R&R. After this, things are going up to the fight in orbit for a chapter, and then we'll see some more Covies on the ground. :)

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><p><strong>1800 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**Grid Location Gamma-7, Near Forerunner Structure. Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

**ODST 53****rd**** Battalion, 3****rd**** Company. Fire Team Echo. Sergeant Jacob Rawlings. **

Sergeant Jacob Rawlings clung his back to the side of the battered and destroyed Warthog that he was taking cover behind as he reloaded his MA5C. As he loaded, the marine standing next to him was nailed by plasma fire and fell over, dropping his BR55. Seeing the mans melted, unmoving face, Rawlings knew he was long gone and dove for the Battle Rifle; a much more effective weapon for the task at hand. Looking uphill, Rawlings watched as three or four marines scrambled away from the bottom, where a Covenant Phantom, destroyed, and a dozen or two Covenant were holed up.

The sergeant lifted his head, BR55 at the ready, as he looked over the top of the wrecked 'Hog. Charging up the hill, was a Spec Ops Elite, and this one had two Plasma Swords. As it neared another one of the wrecked vehicles, two Marines and an ODST dove backwards, firing their weapons on full auto. The rounds pinged off the beasts shields as they shimmered, and the monster quickly cut them down with its swords. Sickeningly, Rawlings fired the first of his three-round-bursts, as the sizzling blades of blue sliced through a marine's abdomen, leaving blood and his insides all over the sand and dirt.

The Elite, turning towards it next target, a scrambling Marine, was met with another hailstorm of fire. Shrugging it off, the massive alien kept charging, it's shields flickering but recharging everytime the fire let up the least bit. The marine quickly met the same fate as the last; sliced neatly across the neckline, it's body left to fall into the battlefield.

Suddenly, as Rawlings dropped low to reload his Battle Rifle, he realized that the Elite had chosen its next target. Directly across from him, a mere twenty-meters, the Elite quickly moved to a full pace, and was within five meters of him in seconds.

He was next.

Dropping the BR55, unable to reload it quick enough, he dropped to the sand and grabbed his fallen MA5C. Spraying the entire clip on full automatic, as the beast smiled and slowly advanced, the rounds put a profound effect, to the point where the Elite's shields had almost dropped. But, unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Rawlings pulled a grenade from his belt as the Elite stood over him, raising its two swords before it sliced through him, and prepared to pull the pin, waiting for the Elite to kill him, and itself.

Jacob Rawlings closed his eyes, thinking back to his family. Back on Mars, he had a wife, who he'd never seen again. He'd been away from her for the past eighteen months on combat deployments, but he always thought he'd make it home. Sighing, he thought past his wife to his young son; barely seven, but proudly proclaiming to everyone that he'd be an ODST just like his dad. Rawlings pushed these thoughts aside as he heard the Energy Swords come closer, preparing for the final moment of his life, and he embraced it.

It didn't come.

Rawlings sat there for a full second, hearing more arms fire and plasma in the background, as something heavy dropped onto him. Half-crushed under the mass, he opened his eyes and looked up to see the black, lifeless eyes of the Spec Ops Elite on top of him. A marine quickly rushed to his help, and between the two, and another ODST, they were able to drag the body off of him. The Energy Sword was buried in the dirt mere inches from where Rawlings had been. "How..." he trailed off, as he heard another shot from the sniper on the ridge. He owed that man his life, and he would find a way to repay him.

Turning back to the battle, Rawlings, with a renewed vigor, began unleashing hell with the BR55 he reclaimed from the sand. As the Covenant numbers dwindled, and only another sole marine fell, he took a moment to grab the Elite's fallen sword. Attaching it to his open left-thigh, he was determined to keep it, even use it if the need arose. The large handle was a bit too big for him, but with his strength from the Orbital Drop Shock training, he was confident he could wield the weapon, albeit for a short time. As the firing began to cease, Rawlings activated his COM channel, contacting the marines in the group.

"Men! Report!"

"Sir," one of them cut in, "Covenant forces have either been pushed into the ruins or are taken care of. Permission to move up?"

Taking a second to pause, "Permission granted," he replied, moving out of cover and following the group of marines that began to gather near the Phantom. A few policed Covenant weapons, replacing lost or empty weapons, and one even gave another marine his MA5B Assault Rifle; instead, picking up a Covenant Carbine. The assigned sniper of the group joined while the weapons swapping went on, and he nodded at Rawlings, who gave him a thumbs-up back. Accessing records through his helmet, Rawlings tagged the marine, a Corporal Paul Bach, and included a small note; "Promotion in need." Usually, a marine wouldn't get promotions based on saving one soldier's life, but this marine's excellent marksmanship had completely turned the tide of the battle, something that his CO might be interested in.

"Woah, Sarge. What is this?"

Turning towards the soldier who asked, he too gazed at the massive gray entrance before them. Approximately twenty-five feet high, the gray-silver metal opened into a room of small statues of unknown origin, columns, and openings in small walls. At the end of the room, the ceiling tapered down into a twelve-foot tall, seven-foot wide hallway, which went at a slight downward slope before turning. Markings of some sort, apparently alien language, were etched into the walls, ceiling, and even floors. Taking a quick peek at one more closely, Rawlings realized they were not of Covenant origin.

"Alright, Marines. Lets move in and set up a perimeter defense. Covies are gonna be all over this in a few minutes, they undoubtedly called for reinforcements. You two," he said, pointing to two marines chatting towards the side, "See if you can salvage an M41 off one of the 'Hogs. One of them didn't look _too_ banged up." The marines nodded before jogging towards the Warthog that lay wrecked halfway up the slope.

Moving slightly into the room, Rawlings quickly began pointing marines left and right, setting up a tactical spread that would get the marines able to fire most effectively. Rawlings also made a note not to use grenades inside; the structure looked weakened from years and years of being here, and could probably collapse with the slightest bit of wrong movement.

Activating his COM channels, Rawlings called into the surprisingly un-busy communications channels. "This is Echo-One of Third Battalion, requesting Major Harris or Lieutenant Maries, anyone out there?"

A cough resounded back at him, as the voice of Major Harris came on the channels. "Echo-One, this is Fifty-Third Actual. Maries is down for the count, Second Lieutenant Franklin Marcus is now in charge of Third Battallion. Have you and your men secured the structure?"

Frowning at the news concerning Maries, Rawlings blinked before responding. "Yes, sir. Structure taken, but with heavy casualties. Intel is reporting this structure is of high value; there was a Special Operations Elite present. Bastard tore up damn near a third of our men."

Rawlings could hear as Harris sighed deeply, before the channel was silent for a few seconds. "Alright, Echo-One. You and your men hold up the entrance there. I've got some heavy support coming your way, we've encountered heavy resistance in the town. I'm gonna warn you, you're not gonna like what we're sending. You're only getting five men out of us, but damn if one of them isn't gonna help the shit out of you, as much as I hate to admit. But, time to cut the chatter. Covies got a damn, _WRAITH! _GET OUT OF THE STRE-"

The channel went silent.

A marine approached him, saluting. Rawlings noticed it was the sniper who'd saved his life. "Sarge!" he called out, "Permission to speak?"

"Granted," Rawlings huffed out, unused to giving soldiers permission to speak, usually seeing that only with highly ranked officers.

"Any intel as to what the hell it is we're guarding, sir?"

"Not a damn clue, but we're sure as hell not letting the Covies get their dirty little hands on it."

"Affirmative, sir," the man replied, snapping another salute and walking to set up his sniper rifle on a ledge towards the back of the room.

Sighing, Rawlings leaned up against a small cube, aiming his MA5C over it towards the downward slope to the entrance. A low whistle was heard, and a marine called out as a Seraph fighter streaked overhead, a blast of plasma impacting high on the slope; nowhere near any marine targets. A few seconds later, a distinct hum was heard as an ODST soldier yelled.

"Sir! Two Covie U-boats, dropping in a half-klick downrange!"

"Well, boys," Rawlings said, barely cracking a smile, "Looks like camping here won't be as boring as I thought. Hop to it! Guns ready! We're gonna have helluva fight coming our way!"

A resounding "Sir, yes, sir!" and a chorus of "Hoo-ah!" were music to Rawlings' ears.

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><p><strong>1820 Hours. September 14<strong>**th****, 2552 (UNSC Military Calendar)**

**Grid Location Gamma-7. Coral, Rio Sigma System.**

**Spartan-II. Petty Officer, First Class. James-005.**

James-005 had the urge to grumble at the marines in the back of the M831 Troop-Transport Warthog he was currently driving across the rocky terrain. The spook in the passenger seat, Captain Williams, stayed relatively quiet; holding his silenced BR55 Battle Rifle with his right hand, adjusting his Recon Mk. III variant helmet with his left.

"Sir!" one of the marines called up, shoving over one of his buddies. "Dropships, up ahead!"

Glancing at his HUD, James noticed they were a mere klick from the designated target zone; a structure of some sort, ruins that were being held by a small squad of marines and ODSTs. Looking at the dropships themselves, hovering a half-dozen meters off the ground, James instantly reminded himself of the fact that one of his marines was hefting a Rocket Launcher.

The first of the two Spirit dropships up ahead was deploying troops; what looked like a mix of Grunts, Jackals and a few Elites. The second, however, released a Wraith tank from inside its U-shaped gravity-well, before allowing a Hunter pair to exit through its sides; each behemoth flanked by a pair of Minor Elites.

"Taylor," he said, calling to the marines, "I want you to focus your rockets on the Wraith, then the Hunters. We'll try to catch them off guard before they-"

James-005 was cut short as a mortar blast of blue sizzling plasma impacted the ground a mere two meters ahead of the Warthog. While it didn't damage the vehicle, the Covenant knew they were coming. James swerved the Warthog to the left as a rocket _wooshed_ past, impacting the Wraith and taking out its turret gunner. The other marines, along with Captain Williams, opened fire on the Covenant forces that were turning to face the oncoming 'Hog.

As the Warthog got a few feet of air, bumping over a small rock formation, Taylor allowed another two rockets loose; one taking out the Wraith that was preparing to fire again, the other taking out a pair of Grunts and a Jackal. The marines fire was starting to thin out the troops, but the two Hunters, as well as eight Elites, not to mention other troops, still stood.

The marine fired another salvo of rockets, this time upwards. Before James had a chance to wonder, he watched as the rockets impacted on the closer of the two dropships' plasma turret; a weapon that James had momentarily forgot as a potential threat. Inwardly cursing himself and remembering to think of it next time, James again turned the wheel as he banked hard to the left, narrowly avoiding the duo of thick, green Fuel Rod Cannons. Small plasma fire began to erupt from the group of alien warriors, and a single gold-armored Elite stepped out from behind the others, wielding a Beam Rifle.

No one had a chance to react as the Beam Rifle's first two shots penetrated the windshield of the 'Hog. Williams turned back, and James-005 heard as one of the marines fell limp. Taylor fired another rocket, his final one, which impacted one Hunter and killed it, before calling up, "Barker is down! No pulse!"

Captain Williams ducked in his seat as another Beam Rifle shot went wild, and plasma fire started impacting the front of the Warthog. Now only a few dozen meters away, James turned the Warthog, trying to find a route around the group of Covenant. Having boxed in between two large rock formations, however, James saw the best path and quickly came up with a plan to pull it off.

"Marines! I need fire on those Elites! Pin them down!"

A spray of automatic fire was the response over his shoulder, and Williams joined in, spraying silenced rounds, a trio of them taking down the Zealot's shields. The beast roared brutally before rolling back behind cover. The remaining six Elites began to take cover; the Hunter, however, did not.

Neglecting its gun, the Hunter, in rage over its mate, lifted its shield to block against the incoming fire, and hoped to smash the Warthog itself. As the vehicle came barreling towards it, the Hunter stood firm, grunting loudly as it planted itself in the ground. James glanced at the Hunter as they neared five-feet from it, unsure of what the outcome would be. He'd seen Warthogs take down Hunters before, but never one who'd lost a mate, or one that stood firm against it.

The Warthog nailed the Hunter dead on, killing it. However, James and the other occupants of the Warthog were unaware of the rock behind it, and the Warthog was thrown into the air. Williams clung to the side of the 'Hog to stay in as it ramped a half-dozen feet in the air, and one of the marines, Taylor grabbed onto the Spartan's seat. James firmly held his position; however, Ingram, unable to grab hold in time, was thrown out the back of the 'Hog. James-005 quickly turned the Warthog the second it bounced on the ground, but was too late, as they watched plasma fire rain from the Elites down onto Ingram.

"Dammit," Taylor muttered under his breath, now the only one remaining of his original squad.

James turned the Warthog again, completing its three-hundred and sixty degree turn, and gunned it towards a slope, adorned at the far end with a silver-gray structure. A few scattered marines were visible at the bottom, and one called out to men inside as the Warthog slowed.

Stepping out of the vehicle, plasma fire rained down as the Elites reached the top of the slope; five, plus a group of a dozen Grunts. James laid down fire from behind the cover of the M831, while Williams crawled underneath the vehicle to his side for cover. Taylor ducked in the back, firing the MA5B that Barker had been holding when he was killed.

A trio of sniper rounds exited the structure behind James-005, as the rattle of an M41 Machine Gun was also heard, bullets from the two tearing up Covenant forces at the top of the ridge. Two marines rushed out from the inside, both holding M7 SMGs, to go check the Covenant and police their weapons.

Turning, and following Captain Williams as he walked, the Spartan and the O.N.I officer stepped into the massive structure. "Forerunner," Williams remarked, as an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper stood to salute him. "Captain!" the man exclaimed, "Sergeant Jacob Rawlings, Fifty-Third Battalion, Third-Company!" The solider then turned towards James-005 with a less-than-lethal glare, before dropping his salute.

Williams, however, remained silent, as he stepped towards the hallway at the back of the room.

"Rawlings, James. You're with me. Order these men to hold up out here. We're going in."


End file.
